I Believe In A Dying Breed

Rebecca - Palatine, Illinois
Entered on June 2, 2008
Age Group: Under 18
  • Podcasts

    Sign up for our free, weekly podcast of featured essays. You can download recent episodes individually, or subscribe to automatically receive each podcast. Learn more.

  • FAQ

    Frequently asked questions about the This I Believe project, educational opportunities and more...

  • Top Essays USB Drive

    This USB drive contains 100 of the top This I Believe audio broadcasts of the last ten years, plus some favorites from Edward R. Murrow's radio series of the 1950s. It's perfect for personal or classroom use! Click here to learn more.

I believe in vinyl records. Growing up in the iPod generation, it may sound strange that I would choose a bulky 12” record over the wonderfully compact iPod. Don’t get me wrong; I am by no means against the Apple phenomenon. I probably love my iPod and MacBook more than most people do, but I don’t believe that the record should be left behind in the dust of modern technology.

My passion for the slowly dying record started at the age of twelve. I was rummaging through my parents’ closet, like a nosy child does, and came upon a dusty pile of heavily used vinyl records tucked away in a deep corner. Regardless of the fact that I had no idea who the majority of the musicians were (with the exception of a few Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and Bob Dylan albums), I wanted those records. Of course I was not allowed to have them, so for the next four years, I relentlessly dreamt of my own records and record player. My mom and dad constantly caught me in their closet, studying the beautiful album artwork of the forgotten records. My parents thought that I would grow out of the phase and be content with my shiny, new iPod, but being my stubborn self, I still wanted a record player four years later.

On my sixteenth birthday, I finally got the record player that I had been dreaming about for years. The wood was smooth as glass and the tiny needle was begging to play me a song. Along with the record player came a few of the “closet” records I had been so fond for the last four years, lovingly entrusted to me by my parents. I immediately plugged in my record player, popped “Electric Ladyland” onto the turntable, and gently placed the miniscule needle at the beginning of the record. The sound of Jimi Hendrix’s guitar purred through the speakers. I couldn’t have asked for a better present.

When I was twelve, I realized that records represented a part of history and a part of music that I had never known before, and would never know if I didn’t take expose myself to it. To me, each record was a piece of art. I held, a certain fascination with records. That fascination has only increased with time, along with the size of my record collection.

The record has taken a severe beating as technology has advanced, but I refuse to let the suffering of my dear friend, the vinyl record, continue. I believe in a second chance for the forgotten music format. Vinyl lovers of the world, raise your records high and fight their downfall! Long live vinyl!